


dagger's edge

by coffeecrowns



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, Competence Kink, Dismemberment, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I honestly have no idea how to tag this, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, Non-Sexual Kink, Other, Shock, Trust Kink, but soft!, canon typical severed fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeecrowns/pseuds/coffeecrowns
Summary: Sasha once escaped Barret's ring by removing the finger herself.She offers Hamid a similar option.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Sasha Racket
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	dagger's edge

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic where Sasha cuts Hamid's finger off. I would like to be very clear about that. It is as consensual as that situation can be, and it is not under violent or scary circumstances. But seriously, the graphic descriptions of violence tag is on this for a reason, bc it is about removing a fucking finger. 
> 
> Otherwise, huge thanks to everyone in When In Rome, who enabled this nonsense.

Sasha tells herself it starts because she didn’t like seeing the ring. The damn thing was with her for the worst years of her life. And it’s not the same ring, and it’s not on her hand. It’s still a similar ring on Hamid’s little brown hand, and it looks so ugly against his soft skin. But unlike last time (and gods, she hates that this keeps happening), it’s her fault where someone else pays. 

Hamid can afford a lot. He’s rich and magical, he will be okay. That carries her for a little while. 

Until one morning, she wakes up in Prague and realizes Hamid is important to her. It doesn’t matter what he has if she doesn’t have him. She likes him and she trusts him. The fear of losing him to Barret hits her like a wave. It tightens in her chest and she’s so scared she can barely _breathe_. Sasha can’t keep doing this, and she already knows how to get out of it. She’s already made the mistakes, she figures as she gazes at the stump of the finger she has. 

She can offer him a choice. Sasha hasn’t been able to work in that currency much, but now that she has it, she wants to share it with him. 

Hamid knows she’s being watched. He also knows Sasha is letting him know that she’s there, and he doesn't know _why._ He trusts her. It makes him feel safe, like she’s a little guardian somewhere beyond where he can see. But he’s curious, and has a collection of pastries he picked with her in mind, and when he’s certain she’s _somewhere_ nearby, he opens the box, calling, “Sasha, I bought them for us to share. Would you like some?” 

Sasha comes in through the window, and Hamid can’t help but smile. “Do you want to split them? I got one of each, I didn’t know which ones you’d like.” 

“Sure,” she replies, taking out a dagger Hamid is about fifty fifty on having seen before. It’s got a little serrated edge. Her long, pale fingers curl around it - relaxed, a master in their element. 

They sit on the floor, and trading who picks the next pastry, Sasha carefully cutting each one in half without destroying the treats. It’s so smooth Hamid can’t believe she doesn’t have magic. Between each one, she cleans her blade. He sees the disappointed look she gives when it comes out covered in cream, and thinks to offer her a handkerchief, only she takes her fingers to either side and in a single swipe has cleaned the blade. Sasha licks fingers and smiles absentmindedly. 

Hamid’s breath catches in his throat from the unbridled satisfaction radiating from Sasha. It reminds him a bit of a cat soaking in a ray of sun. His heart aches as he thinks about how few people have had the privilege to see it. 

“ ‘S good,” Sasha says, taking him out of his thoughts. 

“It’s rosewater,” Hamid replies, because there’s very little else he can say. Sasha pulls a bit of a face. 

“Like the flower?” 

“Er, yes, I think so. I’ve never seen it made. It’s popular back home.” Sasha thinks on that for a long moment. 

“Didn’t know you could eat flowers.” 

“Oh! Well I know rosewater is popular, and I’ve seen lavender as well, but well. We can keep an eye out for more, if you like it.”

“Oh, thanks mate.” Sasha looks like she’s in her head more than with him, so he waits. 

“Hamid, I’ve been thinking. And you can say no. I just thought, well, I’ve been thinking. I had one too, right?” She gestures to the stump where her ring finger was once, and glances at the matching one on Hamid, where Barret’s ring sits ominously. 

“Okay, Sasha, wait what?”

“I got rid of it. It hurt, but I’ve always been better at the stabbing when it’s other folks, not that I want to stab you. You’re my friend.” 

For a long moment, Hamid is overwhelmed. He can imagine Sasha, younger than she is now, desperate and terrified. He thinks of her taking down enemies through her blades: the ones who screamed and the ones who didn’t. He thinks of her now, cutting delicate desserts without crushing them. How the part of her statement that rings through him is _you’re my friend._

“I trust you,” he says, because he isn’t sure what he wants other than the fact he wants her to hear it. 

“I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want Barret to hurt you.” Sasha pauses, but Hamid hears _let me keep you safe_ anyways. 

“Yes. Alright. Get rid of it. I trust you.” 

Sasha relaxes into steeled shoulders, and nods. “Thanks,” she says softly. 

“Is there anything you need?” he asks. 

Sasha looks at him oddly, considering him. “I gotta sharpen my dagger, don’t want it to hurt anymore than it has to.”

“I have bandages,” Hamid says. “For, for after.” Sasha nods, then smiles. 

“Grizzop is going to kill us,” she says, and he bursts out laughing. 

For the next three days, everynight, she comes to Hamid’s room with the dagger and her whetstone. He’s never seen this dagger before either, she doesn’t use it for combat or for food. It’s got an amber handle, and she realizes it matches his eyes. She could have used one of the daggers in her wrist sheaths, she keeps them sharper. It would have been faster to get them sharp enough for Hamid. But it feels wrong, to use those against him. So she’s starting from scratch with this dagger, instead. 

She likes the way the whetstone sounds against it. It’s a sound she knows well, can sink into for hours while sharpening her blades. The repetition is soothing. It’s a little odd doing it around another person. But Hamid doesn’t seem distrubed, just interested. He relaxes into the noise as he reads through the various notes and paperwork they’ve found. His breathing and paper rustling fits nicely into her rhythm. Sometimes she’ll realize he’s been watching her, staring at her arms, not the blade they both know she’s going to take to him. 

Sasha doesn’t fully know how to think about what she’s preparing to do. Her own was alone, painful, with more of her own blood than she’d ever seen. She passed out, after, she’s pretty sure. So it won’t be that for Hamid. She’s new to being there for people, but she won’t mess this up for him. 

On the third day of hours sitting together, she looks at him and says, “Right, It’s ready. When you are.”

Hamid takes a deep breath, and she wonders if he’s changed his mind. She would understand, and she’d never bring it up again if he tells her no. 

“Tomorrow then, first light,” he says. 

“Alright.” She stands awkwardly for a long minute. 

“Can I see it?” 

She hands the blade to him, handle first. Sasha doesn’t even have to think about it. He deserves to hold it in his hands, whatever he can do to understand. His eyes widen as he takes on its weight. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers. He twists the dagger so it catches the candlelight. The dagger suits him, hilt all but glowing in his hands. It illuminates his skin, dark and comforting. She isn’t desperate for her dagger back, like she normally is. But no one has held her daggers when she’s been safe, and this feels right. They’re trading, and it feels like her heart in his hands. It feels like making it up a hard climb, only the soft look he directs at the blade in his hands in the solid ledge beneath her. 

On the day, they have it so Sasha and Hamid are the only two awake. They eat, tucked away in Hamid’s suite. Rather, Hamid eats, Sasha carefully makes a nest of pillows and blankets, covered by a few towels. It makes sense to do this on the floor, so Hamid won’t have far to fall if he does pass out. He watches her set up, breathing deeply. She puts such care into it that it warms his heart. 

Hamid can look over to the short table they will be using - _cutting board,_ a maniacal part of his brain yells. The dagger is sitting there, Sasha tracking it carefully but not hovering. Sometimes she’ll even turn her back to both him and it. Hamid could take it, Hamid could run, Hamid could attack, and in her deep focus, he might actually hurt her. He has no desire to. He trusts Sasha to keep him safe. 

Besides, there’s something warm in him watching her fuss over him like this. 

“I’m ready,” he declares, standing and moving towards the area Sasha has set up. She just nods. He curls into the nest she’s made just for him, takes off his sleeves of many garments, leaving him in soft pajamas. He wraps the relevant wrist in a towel. It will keep the blood off his clothes, and if things go wrong, Sasha can use it as a tourniquet. 

Not that he thinks things will go wrong. 

Sasha sits opposite him. She doesn’t pick up the dagger. She makes eye contact with him, which is rare. He takes a moment to admire her strong grey eyes. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him, but he hopes she finds it. 

“You can say no,” she says, again. 

“I don’t want to.” He replies. Then, just to be sure, “You also can say no, Sasha.” 

She shakes her head. “We keep each other safe.” She picks up the dagger, and he admires the way it looks in her hands. The silver blade shines with all the care she’s poured into it. It looks like an extension of her hand, fitting perfectly. He loves having the opportunity to watch her, in a calm moment, doing what she does best. He’s often in awe of her, but this is a private show, just for him. 

“Hey,” she says. “You’re too tense.” He tries to relax, but judging from the crease between her eyebrows, he isn’t doing a good job. She reaches out with her other hand, wrapping hers around his wrist. Her thumb rests on his pulse point. He can feel hers and she can feel his. Her fingers are cold against his skin, pale and long, but graceful as anything. 

“There you are,” she says, and turns his gaze back towards her face. She’s smiling, and he smiles back at the absurdity of it all. The hand around his wrist doesn’t even tighten, but he feels the cool metal on his ring finger, followed by a brief pressure. He feels, rather than hears the bone give way. Then it’s wet, and exposed, and only then does the pain kick in. He doesn't realize he's been crying until he can tastes his own tears. 

He feels her wrap his hand in bandages, feels her place his good hand to put pressure on the bad. He whimpers as a bolt of pain travels up his arm. She holds that steady while he figures out how to do it himself. She wipes his face with an impossibly soft cloth. 

"You did good," she says. That breaks something in him, and his tears come harder. Her hands come back to his body, even though he isn't sure when they left. She's holding him, caring for the wound. 

“Fuck,” he bites out. Then he manages to smile up at her. Sasha has somehow already tucked the severed digit in it’s own towel, which helps. He's floating slightly, feeling just to the left of his body. She wraps his hand in the towel they had in place for this exact situation. He's pretty sure that means he's bleed through the bandages, but he can't bring himself to worry about that. Whatever is happening, t's grounding. Hamid takes a deep breath, reminds himself this is going according to plan. It’s over. Black spots faded into his vision, and he feels dizzy. Still, he doesn’t feel afraid. He doesn’t have to do anything else now. 

“ 'm gonna pass out,” he manages to tell Sasha. 

“I’ve got you,” she says, guiding him into the soft pillows. Her hands don't leave him, two points of contact in as the darkness creeps in. He loses consciousness as she calls for Grizzop, squeezing her hand with his good one, wanting to assure her that he’s okay. 

After, once Grizzop yelled and muttered a frustrated prayer, once the pain has faded and Hamid has had both a meal and nap, he wakes up to Sasha standing over him. He doesn’t startle. In a reprise of the previous night, she hands him that amber hilted blade. She’s cleaned it, maybe even polished it. Hamid isn’t sure how long he’s been asleep, but the early afternoon sun creeps through the curtains. He’s certain Sasha has been watching over him. He blinks up at her, trying to process it all. 

“You should have it. It’s for protecting you, now.”

He reaches out with his good hand, feeling a dull pain and heavy bandages wrapped around the other. The dagger is heavier now, or maybe that’s just Sasha’s careful gaze. 

“Thank you,” he says, not bothering to clarify. 

“ “s nothing,” she shrugs, then smiles. And even though if he thinks too much, Hamid doesn’t know what’s next, he feels safe knowing she understands. 

**Author's Note:**

> anyways that was that. uh please let me know if you think i need to add any tags, i haven't written anything like this before
> 
> otherwise if you made it this far, ty ily


End file.
